we believe the lies we want to hear. @flagitioustongue - Tumblr Blog

like for starters when I get from work tomorrow?

#otherwise I will just annoy Tate more.#{ on your knees }

Well aren’t you a new presence. Normally, Violet may not have noticed that someone coming inside, but something’s changed suddenly; your presence here has a kind of.. effect on this place. A usual response would be hunger - she feels like the home is in need of a soul. You, on the other hand — well. Doesn’t it feel darker in here? It’s a good thing she’s fearless, right? “You know, this place is abandoned for a reason.”

flagitioustongue

"But it obviously isn't completely."

The light smile grazing the demon's lips is barely a thing of honesty, more a constant feature, worn the same way some people never lay off their jewelry. I t's not like he cares much about what the inhabitants here might think of this stranger wandering through — it's curiosity crawling through his veins more so than anything else, drawn to of a place calling of magic, even while a dark one.

#allthosepills

larach-abhainn

There are times where even demons might feel the need to be alone — where humanity got too much, made him sick of their ignorance and of how easily they gave away what they hold close to their hearts. He wondered if he had been just as pathetic when his soul was traded for one another — most likely. Seeing how things went, it was all in vain, and probably much amusing to those dealing with him back there.

However, it seemed it was not for him to be on his own for this moment — small noises made Jon's head jerk up, senses suddenly very awake, very wary. Not a lot of things on the surface of Earth meant true harm anymore, but you could never be too sure.

"What do you want?"

#larachabhainn #(if I made any mistakes I didn't catch I'm sorry I just have a really bad headache right now)

dcstiny-archive-blog

She’d only just gotten back. It had been a bad idea in the first place, taking up her eight hour shifts at the diner to make up for the money she might be able to use to help OTHER causes. The long hours, multiple types of duties in the small place, and the fact that she barely had time to sit down save at lunch or during a break, made it tough for even her strong mind and willpower. Every day, if she had nothing else to look forward to, she’d find herself tired out to the point of spending a good hour on the couch before even starting to stir up her own food.

And when the doorbell rang, she was, as usual, on the couch, chin propped against the side, watching the screen of the television and trying to ignore the aching in her calves and ankles. It was difficult to push herself from her comfortable spot, but with a grunt she did, and stood to stretch her muscles before she trudged to the door. Reaching it, she paused to fix the waved mess that her hair had FALLEN into during the long day.

Nimble fingers worked at the lock for several moments before finally tugging it open. She was used to strangers coming to her door — and she was more than OPEN to walk-ins, as her sign pointed out: her reaction was the same as any days, albeit a bit more worn.

§— “Hi, welcome. Come on inside and tell me what you need.”

flagitioustongue

Humanity would always find a way to disregard just what is exactly in front of their eyes for the comfort of themselves. Some could tell right away what he was, one look at the way he moved and the smile lingering and his eyes and they were aware, some others would take a few moments to realize, and most, most decided to ignore what they could well see if they wanted to, and did not recognize what they were dealing with not even after it was long long too late.

He wondered, briefly, what category he would find here, and if the greeting he gets is of any sort an indication, it will not be the first one. Almost a bit disappointing, it's always much more fun dealing with a mortal that has an idea of how the world looks rather than one that is following each whispered command like an actor on a stage.

Well — might still have some luck.

"Oh, nothing much. Will probably be gone soon enough. You look tired, darling. I won't disturb for long."

And that's about as honest as he gets, probably, as he really does not want much more than a brief overview of the things roaming this place before he stumbled upon, just to make sure he will not run into unpleasant surprises. Stepping in is easy and light enough, nearly without a sound.

#dcstiny #(obv they like annoying her.)#(also it's the easiest explanation.)

aviliobruno

isn’t that what this world does to teenagers? ruins them from the inside out, until they’re nothing but t a i n t e d remains.

more than teenagers; no one is truly safe from what this sick place does to humans—because humans are weak creatures, beings unable of sustaining their own weight in a place so hellbent on bending and breaking them beneath it with forces hidden but stronger than gravity itself. tate has not had the worst past, but he has far from had the best; he was predestined to become a monster from the day he was conceived and his haphazard upbringing only aided in his slow, gradual mutation.

the fingers fall and distant gaze is cast away from the creature that stands before, glancing down lengthy halls and staring up at vaulted ceilings as if waiting for a visitor—observing surroundings for intruders. intruders other than this man, of course. the shift in demeanor is steady but sure before his tone has once more fallen to the sullen stoicism, reverberating along the walls eerily with sorrowful undertones. as much a monster he may be, he was at one point a human, and there are still emotions—buried so, so deep beneath the thick skin of the thing he has become.

“ there’s a family in this home. you’re disturbing them. “

“ you already know this is the house of the damned—don’t linger around. “

flagitioustongue

If something here tells him, really does, that this boy is more than far from maturing from his shape, it is not movement or the way he talks — much rather the mere fact nothing seems to gather his attention for long, the inability to not change a topic every few sentences. A child, really, no matter how long he is already trapped in here. It's almost sad, or it would be, if pity was a thing left in this shell. Not all the things making him once human, made the soul up and into an animal that would be able to feel just enough empathy to regret it's own choices and those of his race are gone — but a lot of them have long died inside, rotting still into something much more wicked.

Amusement, for once, is still fully functional, and so is the small smile he gives the boy, giving at least the illusion of caring.

"And you're sure it's about others? You don't seem like much of a people person."

Not that he would know, but still — he got nothing better to do, and why give up the one thing at least fairly interesting his mind for the moment just on the command of a boy?

"Also — why would that scare me? I died, you know that much. Damnation is something akin to my job description. So not quite a thing for me to care or worry about much."

#douchewack #(I'm writing with a massive headache I apologize for any mistakes)

aviliobruno

“ for fun. “

just as soon as the fingers enter the gory wound, they’re pried out, coagulated blood coating down past prominent knuckles. he doesn’t bother to wipe them off, no, the blood will dry and peel off easily as ever, and that’s just how the sickening solution works. dark eyes drag down to the wound, to the fingertips that had so shamelessly probed them, to the stranger that stands before him, a morbid humor lacing the inky depths that observe all but give away none.

“ you know, it’s normal for someone to assume that everyone else has a similar mindset to their own. do you get off on fingering your own wounds, freak? that’s the sort of thing you should really keep to yourself. or, you know, if you’re really desperate… im into that shit too. the kinda sick shit that makes everyone around you turn their nose up. “

it’s all bullshit, jokes, a twisted sense of mutated humor that only he really finds funny—perverse comments and manipulation tactics meant to lure others into traps only to snap shame shut upon throats. tis the mind of a psychopath, and there’s nothing that brings him more joy in life, no matter how much he tries to change for the sake of his mother or for the sake of violet or for the sake of himself.

he’s simply a monster.

flagitioustongue

The boy surely is not the first weird or strange one he encountered. Heavens knew upon how many twisted people he stepped in those long years, time running through his hands like water and little else even making them interesting, just always passing the always same stories with only names and faces changing. Cruelty and sick thoughts seem to be the only thing that humanity is truly creative in — something the human he once was would never have wanted to see, but one time has made by far more than obvious to the demon taking his skin.

No, he is long not the first, and it's too early to say if he is the worst one, yet. There were many, too many to keep them all sorted in his head, minds and names long twisted and turned and attached wrongly or forgotten, simply fallen into oblivion. And even if he wasn't, it didn't mean anything, because unlike most of those poor souls this boy would have more than enough time to shape his form of twisted thoughts, if he wanted or not.

Made no difference, not to Jon at the very least.

"The things that bring me joy are barely the ones actually catching your interests, are they? I don't plan on joining any twisted tea parties with you anyway."

The small sounds of the house, never really stopping, make him wonder, if only briefly, how likely it is for another of the residents here to fall into his back. Nothing to upset him, though, this body might still experience pain through mere violence, but barely more than temporary destruction.

#douchewack

flagitioustongue

You have to start out learning to believe the little lies. — “So we can believe the big ones?” Yes. [ Justice. Mercy. Duty. ] That sort of thing.

+ indie OC demon + open to all fandoms & themes, triggers included + mun & muse 21+ + everything from texting to novella threads

home | ask | rules written by becks

#{ on your knees }#self promo for ts

aviliobruno

and there’s no need for comment because he’s well aware. he’s well aware that in the year he was killed, there were no notable accidental homicides involving shotguns, and he’s well aware that the only really notable death that year that could leave him with a wound like the one he has is the gunning he got for the crimes he committed—the sort of death he really deserved.

curious, he’s watching, staring at the slight gash, almost reaching out with perverse fingers to trace the wound, map out the length and depth and store it away in twisted memory. 1683, more than two centuries before tate himself, and he’s utterly fascinated by the idea of absorbing his memory and his ideas and his mind in entirety.

“ how deep is it? i can stick my f i n g e r s in mine . “

he doesn’t give the other time to respond before the thin material of his second shirt is pulled up over his head, pinned behind shoulders, and fingers are lifted, prodding at the fresh wound some ten, twenty years old. expression smooths out, dangerously so, before the tips of blunt nails are digging into pristine bullet wounds, wet sounds of blood and flesh stretching and tearing to accommodate for bony dactyls echoing amongst the walls that seem to lean in to watch the sickening display. “ i’m like a finger puppet. see? pretty cool, huh. “ the tone is dry, empty, and fingers curl; there’s only ten fingers, they don’t accommodate for the several other shots that were taken that day.

“ hurts like ass, but it’s great at parties. “

flagitioustongue

He does not know about this place's story, this history. It just sounds unlikely to him, and that's all he makes of that — it's not like the demon gives much of a damn about lies, they are what wandered silently and gently over his lips every other day, just almost as much for every being that is able to believe into things like the truth. Humans are structured over lies, it's part of what makes them human, anyway. Jon doesn't care, not anymore. It is sort of amusing to him, actually, and the smile curls up over his lips just the more, faint and much more ghostly than the blond in front of him.

"Why would you even do such thing?"

The question is useless, as proof is right in front of his eyes barely after the words slipped over his lips. It's not even that he is disgusted much — another thing he lost, and bullet wounds are not the worst he had ever seen in his life. He lived through wars, literal one, and the things people did to each other were amazing. It made you wonder why hell existed even, why demons like him needed to roam Earth's surface if humanity itself existed — but that was not the point. The action merely seems useless to him. Good enough maybe to get a mortal soul on their knees with their inside turning around to escape the flesh cage in disgust — but of no actual use.

"Great. You can play with yourself. You're not the first one to discover that, you're aware?"

It's a dry comment, barely even meant to bother.

#douchewack #(good. good boy. +pets head+)

wendyhiddles-deactivated2020022

#{ mirror movement }#(my fc is such a perfect human being. why do i use him for an asshole.)

You have to start out learning to believe the little lies. — "So we can believe the big ones?" Yes. [ Justice. Mercy. Duty. ] That sort of thing.

+ indie OC demon + open to all fandoms & themes, triggers included + mun & muse 21+ + everything from texting to novella threads

home | ask | rules written by becks

#{ on your knees }#self promo for ts #that's it. all my ps skills.

praecantriix-deactivated2015080

; open

praecantriix-deactivated2015080

"Blind from what?"

flagitioustongue

"The world as it is. Things a bit out of the normal horizon. Nobody seems to be wanting to see nowadays."

#pravusvenustas #(yeah. it just sucks)

praecantriix-deactivated2015080

; open

praecantriix-deactivated2015080

"It’s called logic."

flagitioustongue

"It's called being blind."

#pravusvenustas #(i actually wanted to - still wanna - get into cinematograpy instead)#(but that's a thing that you only learn in this country by LOTS of money or connections)#(which i SHOULD have I mean I am friends with one of Robert Rodriguez' personal assiatants and such.)#(but somehow... nah.)#(so not for me!)

praecantriix-deactivated2015080

; open

praecantriix-deactivated2015080

"I guess being six feet under the ground can’t do anything."

flagitioustongue

"Ahh, the ignorance of living people."

#pravusvenustas #(i haven't edited in forever)#(well apart from projects for my old school)#(i don't even know anymore where i uploaded anything that isn't like 2 years old and cr #*crappy as fuck)

praecantriix-deactivated2015080

; open

praecantriix-deactivated2015080

"Well he’s dead and last time I heard, the dead won’t be annoyed anymore."

flagitioustongue

"Oh, you'd be surprised how much some of them are."

#pravusvenustas #(the funny thing is!)#(sony vegas i can work.)#(which is literally the same just for videos instead of pictures)#(vegas i'm great in. ps? no chance. it's ridic.)

I do not follow personals. I don't care if you rp from there, and if they are sideblogs, you are more than invited to write with me there & I will follow them instead if they meet my expectations.

But honestly, people, I don't even follow the personals of my friends on roleplay blogs & if you actually rp from that blog rather than making at least a sideblog, I see it as lazy & that tells me you don't put enough love into your characters for me to care.

#{ on your knees }#mostly something I encountered too often on other blogs #& on Peter someone just actually whined that I wouldn't follow back #srsly people I have the right to be selective shut up that's pathetic.